


Stay Your Hand

by Strawberry_Requiem



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Married Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Married Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Requiem/pseuds/Strawberry_Requiem
Summary: Dimitri, the god of death, has a difficult job. He must shepherd and contain the dead within himself, which ultimately leads him to be unfavorable in the worship of the faithful.However, nothing makes it more difficult than when the faithful pray to his wife to ask miracles of him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 24
Kudos: 215





	Stay Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As always, [you can find me on Twitter.](https://www.twitter.com/queenofthisdick)

" _ Oh, Progenitor Goddess, hear my plea." _

The woman's quivering voice filled the small room. She was clutching a stone likeness of a woman between her clasped hands while she rocked back and forth in her worn chair. Beside her, a man lay. Sweat beaded on his forehead, though despite the perspiration, he shivered. His skin was sallow and pale. Eyes glazed over.

" _ Please, stay your husband's hand, Goddess, so that I may keep mine _ ."

While she prayed, the room grew cold, cold enough that the fog from her breath became visible. Shadows danced and grew in the flickering firefight. Those were the omens she had hoped not to see, yet she was so consumed in her prayer that she did not see them. Some saw. Those who did were revered as prophets, that they could commune with the gods. This woman, however, she took no notice.

So she had no idea that the shepherd of the dead was watching her prayers.

" _ Please, Goddess, stay your husband's hand, lest I lose mine _ ."

"She is not here with you, good woman." He said simply, not that she could hear him. His good eye flitted over to the figure in the bed, and without needing the power of his ruined one, he could tell the cause was illness. Dimitri imagined she must have prayed to one of the healing gods first, left offers of freshly baked bread or a handmade craft at their altars for their blessings to befall her husband. He imagined the prayer to the Progenitor was a last-ditch effort to prevent the inevitable. 

To prevent him. 

He could already see the gossamer threads that kept the soul bound to the body, the threads he was to cut so that the soul could be free. Dimitri took a step forward and summoned his lance to his hand.

" _ Stay your husband's hand _ ."

Dimitri looked to the woman, to the stone likeness of the Progenitor she clutched firmly. He afforded it a weak smile when the firelight caught it just so and her stone face lit up. It was strange for her to not be present, he thought while he looked it over. She listened to the prayers of her faithful. Liked to bestow miracles upon them. Liked to  _ stay his hand _ as it was. So much that the prayers spoken often had to do with such miracles. And yet, she was nowhere. Nowhere and yet somehow ever-present. 

"It seems we will not play our game this time, Beloved."

Her stone face lit up again, and the chill that the room had taken since he arrived dissipated. 

"Stay your hand, My Love."

When her figure took shape in the room, the shadows crawled back. They still danced in a troubling way that would have told the faithful of his presence, but for the time being, they did not predict his imminent severing of the ties. Dimitri looked to her, to her beautiful face. He wanted to ask her why she had taken so long to arrive, yet as things were, there was no time for idle chitchat. The man was closer than he had previously believed, threads so prominent and glistening that even Byleth took notice of them and made a face that betrayed her typical cool countenance. He turned his gaze just beyond while the chorus of his dead filled his ears for the briefest of moments.

"I must do my part, Beloved. This man is not for this world any longer."

"Stay your hand, My Love."

" _ Stay your husband's hand. _ "

Dimitri looked to the woman in the chair, then back to Byleth who stared at him with her impassive way that both unnerved and charmed him. He sent his lance away temporarily, placed both his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her forehead where her circlet met her hairline. "I cannot, Beloved. I apologize." His dead grew louder, likely feeling Byleth's presence. Longing to feel her light and her life.

He raised his hand to summon his lance to it once more, but Byleth entwined her fingers in his, preventing the gesture at least for a time. Her cool facade was beginning to crack, showing a glimmer of frustration and something else under her stony exterior. Dimitri thought of the stone likeness and wanted to smile at the comparison, but restrained himself. 

"Allow this poor woman this one pleasure, My Love. Stay your hand."

"I cannot, Beloved. If I stay my hand every time one of your faithful requests it, the cycle of life would cease."

Byleth's fingers caressed his palm, his wrist, danced all the way up his arm until her hand was resting on his shoulder. "Yes, but she is so passionate in her conviction. She leaves fish and tea leaves in my temple when she prays for my blessings. She was praying for a child before her husband took ill. She left plenty of fish and tea leaves."

It was true that Byleth's favor was easily won among her faithful. Dimitri had seen her temples, overflowing with gifts to her. Sometimes in such excess that she would come to one of her prophets in dreams to ask them to donate such treasures to those in need. He knew it was in part because she was easily charmed, so she could be asked to pull his icy fingers from the threads of their loved ones. In a sense, he supposed  _ he  _ was just as easily charmed, but in his case, the faithful need only leave a tasty morsel for his wife.

"I cannot, Beloved." He said, barely above a whisper. Dimitri placed both his hands on her cheeks and tilted her head back ever so slightly so that she could more readily accept his kiss. It was the consolation he afforded her at the moment. 

_ "Stay your husband's hand." _

Byleth's hand on his shoulder trailed his clavicle, up his neck to his cheek, then back down where she rested it on his chest. The flames on the candle ignited at her touch in time with the fire he felt with her fingertips. She was the Progenitor, reborn of death and flame as a new goddess, and she was doing all she could to remind him that he was hers. That only she could melt his iciness, bring the feeling of life into the mausoleum that was his chest. 

"Stay your hand, My Love, lest I stay mine." Her hand trailed downward. 

"I shall...stay my hand, Beloved." As much as he resisted, Dimitri knew he was hers. When she willed it, he would drop his lance and allow a soul a little more time. He was at her beck and call; her dutiful servant. 

Byleth wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Dimitri savored the feel of her lips, her tongue. He loved these moments when she would implore him to stay his hand, even if he pretended otherwise. He loved seeing the look in her eyes while she pressed him for miracles. He loved it when they would join one another after. 

Dimitri drove her into the wall, oblivious to the woman's chanting for a blessing. In any case, her blessing was coming; Byleth made sure of that. His Byleth. How he craved to be inside her, to feel the life that flowed in her envelop him. He claimed her lips again, desperate for more. The dead had reached a cacophonous pitch, wailing in joyous harmony with each kiss. Her touches on him ignited the afterlife in such a wondrous way, made the souls feel alive again. 

Made  _ him _ feel the pleasure of life. 

He picked her up swiftly while managing to keep her steady against the wall. She mewled approvingly and hitched his robes up while anchoring her legs around his waist. The chorus of the dead grew, drowning out the woman's prayers entirely. He slid in without resistance, the feeling of her warmth spreading across him like wildfire. Her lips crashed into his, deliciously plump and intoxicating. 

"Dim...dimitri…" 

" _ Stay your husband's hand." _

She moaned in his ear; his speed grew in response. Inside his chest, he could feel the dead, feel the joy they felt for his union with her, life incarnate. Likewise, he was overcome with a similar sensation. She was his wife, they had lain together many times, and yet every time, it was as passionate as the first.

His arms found the wall behind her. Her lashes fluttered and mouth pulled open. She was beautiful like that, succumbed to pleasure, the most beautiful sight in all of creation, he thought. So beautiful that, when she cried out his name in ecstasy and threw her head back in orgasm, he couldn't help but finish. 

"My love…" she huffed. Byleth ran her hand along his crown, pushing his hair back. 

"I will...stay my hand." His promise came amid his own labored breathing. Dimitri leaned in and kissed her once more, savoring the feel of her before they needed to attend to their respective tasks once more. 

When they separated, the man in the bed gasped. His wife beside him burst into happy tears.

* * *

The temple was bustling that afternoon and Dimitri held a passing interest for the woman flitting in, concealing gifts for his wife. This particular temple was one for them both, one that they shared as husband and wife. And yet it was mostly treated as a place of worship for Byleth. These women, many with a babe slung to their chests or a small child clinging to their skirts, left gifts of fish or trinkets that she would appreciate. In a way, that pleased him. He would rather her receive the praise and the worship, as it was.

She materialized beside him. Her scent carried through the temple, causing one woman with a baby in a sling and two more children under 5 running about her legs to look in their direction briefly and then shake her head. He imagined she was one of the prophets who could sense them.

"Look at all the fish." She sang, excited, before taking his arm. 

"They adore you, Beloved." He cast her a smile.

"You're the one who provides their miracles." Byleth said, nose wrinkled while she looked over his statue, lacking the number of gifts that hers held.

"They know that the greatest gift they could give me is your happiness."

Another woman entered, and Dimitri couldn't help when his gaze trickled over to her and away from his wife. It was the woman from the previous night, he remembered. She seemed far more jovial than when she spoke her prayers. And with her, she carried something bundled in burlap. The other women who had been chattering among themselves took note of her and made space at Byleth's altar so that she could leave her gifts. 

He watched while she unwrapped the bundle and placed a fish fillet and a bottle of brackish liquid that he assumed to be liquor. Byleth's hand on his arm tightened in excitement at the sight. 

Still, there was more in her parcel, but she moved towards his more spartan altar and placed a wedge of hard cheese upon it. She knelt in front of it, and quickly uttered a prayer of thanks. While she did, the other women took notice.

"How does your husband fare?" One asked while she rocked her baby in an attempt to hush its crying. 

She snapped from her prayers. "Oh, praise be Byleth, he is recovering. The goddess must have spoken with her husband last night."

Another woman laughed. "I think she did more than talk with him," she said with a suggestive tone," my boy who passed five years ago came to me in my dreams, and my neighbor said she saw both her parents."

The woman with the babe in the sling and the two clinging to her skirts nodded. "You know what they say: Our lady goddess and her husband making love allows the dead to visit their living loved ones."

Dimitri paled, and half anticipated to see a similar sort of expression on Byleth's face. She, however, wore a slight grin that sent his cool heart fluttering with life. "I suppose you're right. The faithful believe that gaining my favor and driving me to your arms is offer enough."

He kissed the top of her head.


End file.
